


The Second Kiss

by panicattackkisses



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Not quite Malia hate but..., Prompt Fill, Stiles/Lydia Fest, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-02 14:28:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4063378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panicattackkisses/pseuds/panicattackkisses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This prompt was given to me by stydia-fanfiction for the Stydia fic takeover! As far as I can remember, someone wanted a story of Stiles having a panic attack, and only Lydia being able to calm him. So, I hope I did the idea justice!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Second Kiss

Malia was holding one side of Stiles’ limp body as they burst into Derek’s loft, the empty space only making their frantic shouts and gasping breaths sound worse. Everything was loud, harsh and panicked.

The air was cold and it suddenly hurt, her lungs filled with ice as she kept the boy standing. Scott stood on the other side, holding onto his best friend for dear life. Blood trailed behind them, crimson drops that became smeared under Isaac’s hurried footsteps.   
Stiles was pale, the grey, stone walls surrounding him bringing out the blue in his veins, the clouded whites of his eyes.   
Eyes that were closing, slipping away into another reality. The wound in his chest soaked his shirt with blood, staining his body with a colour that could only mean danger, death.  
  
Malia rushed forward with Scott, ignoring the other people in the room who stood in shock. Noises were a blur, a rush of sound around the teenagers. They acted on instinct, clearing the old sofa of it’s clutter before lowering the boy onto it’s lumpy cushions.  
He lay there, silent.

____________

 

Lydia was sitting next to Allison in Derek’s living room, looking through the bestiary with curious eyes. When the door suddenly burst open, it hit the wall behind it with a bang. The sound fell onto deaf ears as Lydia took in the scene before her.  
  
Stiles was being dragged through the room, his limp feet hardly making contact with the ground as Scott and the coyote carried him. His skin was pale, void of colour as his eyes fluttered closed.   
His lips were dry, cracked and speckled with blood; making Lydia’s heart stop. She had rose to her feet without realising, her hands trembling in front of her parted lips as she tried to contain her gasp.   
  
Her body felt too light, her head was swimming with too many thoughts and her eyes stung with tears. She was confused, terrified - how could the night have led to this?  
Blood stained the concrete floors, looking like ink as it fell in drops behind the boy. Lydia’s stomach churned violently as the reality of the situation hit her. The blood belonged to Stiles.

She watched, silently, helplessly, as Scott lowered Stiles to the couch and she winced as the boy’s face contorted with pain. She was more afraid than ever when Stiles then fell silent.

 

____________

 

Malia listened as Scott spoke to her and Isaac in a low, rushed murmur, giving them instructions. Derek was already filling basins with clean water, ripping up bedsheets and soaking them in the warm liquid. Allison was wiping cupboards clean with frantic sweeps of her arm, picking up bottles of pills and lotions - trying to find something, anything to help.   
  
Desperate and determined to help, Malia pushed past Scott’s frame, laying her hands on Stiles’ chest - hating how he groaned under her touch. He was becoming paler and his eyes were squeezed shut, the low lights making his skin look sallow and tainted green.   
  
She took a deep breath, focusing her thoughts on the boy in front of her, the boy she spent her nights with. Her hands tingled with a burning sensation as she drew away some of the pain from his body.   
But she faltered, cursing as the black blood - tainted with his agony - slipped from her veins and back into Stiles’.  
  
He shouted out as his body convulsed and Malia flinched at the noise. She hushed him with shaking hands, trying to soothe the boy but to no avail. His breath came in gasping pants as if he was suddenly starved of oxygen - his lips drew in short breaths and he chest stuttered with the movement. Before she could place her hands upon him again, she was pulled out of the way, her body falling backwards onto the hard floor.

 

____________

 

Lydia stood rigid as she watched the coyote lay her hands on Stiles’ bleeding body. The boy convulsed under her touch and Lydia’s lips were parted wide in silent horror as the pain she tried to extract only seeped back into him.  
His body trembled and shook where he lay, his eyes unseeing as they opened and closed. Lydia was sure he looked right through her, his vision only aware of pain surrounding him at this point.   
  
The banshee hadn’t realised she had moved until her hand found purchase on Malia’s shoulder, jerking her away from Stiles with a motion that was more harsh than originally intended. But she was blind to anything else other than the boy.   
She knelt in the place Malia had vacated, ignoring the way the coyote growled at her from behind.  
  
But Lydia had no time to look for angry, blue eyes. She called out to Scott, to Isaac - to anyone who could help. Isaac dropped the first aid kit he held, rushing over the kitchen counter until he dropped to his knees beside Lydia.  
The girl didn’t have to ask the beta, he simply smiled at her in understanding, silently telling her it was okay - Stiles would be okay.  
  
He lay his hands in the same spot Malia had placed her own, his eyes fierce and tainted with yellow as he concentrated on his friend underneath him. Lydia held her breath beside him, her trembling hands holding on to Stiles own cold pair.   
  
Slowly but surely, black, ink-like trails seeped from Stiles’ veins, leaking into Isaac’s. Stiles took a deep, gasping breath and his chest heaved underneath Isaac’s ministrations.   
The black tendrils continued their journey from Stiles to the beta and Lydia followed them with wide, grateful eyes.   
  
When they finally stopped, Lydia shuddered with a breath of relief, her body falling forwards as the tension left her body. Isaac placed a hand on her shoulder and she leant her cheek against it in thanks.  
  
Stiles was silent again, his body still and his breathing more even and less strained. Colour stained his cheeks with the exertion of the procedure and his eyes flicked back and forth underneath his closed eyelids.   
Soon, his limbs twitched, his lips parting as if words were about to fall from them. Lydia held onto him, ignoring the way Malia stood over her, glaring down at their joined hands.  
Right now, she only cared about Stiles.

 

____________

 

Malia was close to shifting as she watched Lydia kneel beside Stiles, holding onto his hands as if she was tethered there. She moved for Isaac to join the banshee on the floor, feeling inadequate as the beta laid experienced hands on the injured boy.  
  
He removed the pain from Stiles’ body easily and quickly. Malia watched with an accusing stare as Lydia whimpered when Stiles’ winced, the banshee would gasp when Stiles’ groaned and she was already holding him when his body jerked from the sofa.   
  
Malia knew her eyes were flashing blue by now, the jealousy that seeped out of her body would be filling the room and she ignored the pointed stares that Scott gave her.   
Allison and Derek stood behind the alpha, silent but ready to leap into action when needed. She was ready to retrieve the hand-made bandages from the older wolf and do something to help her boyfriend when a noise from the couch distracted her.   
  
Stiles had sat up, his body stiff as a board and his face contorted in pain. He had let out a heart wrenching sob as he moved and Malia cringed at the sight of more blood leaving the wound.   
Lydia was already placing gentle hands on his shoulders, trying to slowly lower him back to his makeshift bed, but he was tense, his muscles locked into position. What worried the coyote more, was the way he was breathing - or not breathing - she had never seen anything like it before.

His breath came out in ripped sobs, stuttering gulps of air left his lips before he would seal them shut again, holding in his oxygen as if it hurt to let it go.  
The whole pack was frozen in place, unsure what to do or how to help. This wasn’t a bleeding wound from an enemy or a bite from a werewolf. This was something else.

 

____________

 

A panic attack. Stiles was having a panic attack. Lydia stared at the boy’s shaking body in shock. It had been years since she had experienced this, an attack brought on by the terrifying thought of his father in danger. Now, she could only deduce that this was an aftershock of the injury, a delayed reaction to the pain and chaos he must have felt.  
  
The girl leapt into action, shouting out to her friends behind her - informing them of what was happening. Immediately, Scott began the search for his friends inhaler and Lydia didn’t have the heart to tell him it would be useless.  
Her body tensed as Malia fell to the ground beside her again, her hands batting the banshees away as she took Stiles’ in her own.  
  
Lydia bit her lip, knowing this wasn’t the time for such pettiness. Instead she counted the breaths that Stiles let out, watching how he slowly regained some of his consciousness. He became more aware of his surroundings, his eyes gaining their warm, golden colour as they met Lydia’s worried gaze.

She gave him a small smile, wanting him to know that he was okay, everything was okay. But first, he had to calm down.   
  
“Stiles, I need you to slow your breathing down for me’’, she told him, her voice and words clinical and stern.  
  
He glared at her and she knew what he was thinking. They had been here before, they had said the same lines, tried the same thing.   
Malia sat by his side, petting his shoulder as if it would help, all whilst making hushing noises that were grating on Lydia’s ears.   
  
Stiles must have thought similarly, because the boy groaned, throwing his body backwards into the cushions. He yelped and held his breath longer than Lydia liked. He was silent as his eyes grew wide and pain shot through his chest.   
  
Isaac appeared on the other side of the sofa, placing a hand on Stiles’ ribs and taking away more of his agony. He frowned as the boy’s stuttered breathing made the process harder, his pain threshold being stretched too far as he took smaller, gasping breaths.  
  
The beta glanced at Lydia.  
  
“You need to get him to calm down, or this isn’t going to work Lyds’’.

 

____________

 

Malia glared at the wolf as he addressed the banshee and not her. But before she had time to argue that she too, could help, Stiles jerked back up from the couch.   
He pulled away from her hold on his hand and with another agonising groan, he wrenched his weakened body from the couch.   
  
The whole back yelled in protest as the boy swayed on his feet, the concrete floor looking back up at him in warning. Stiles muttered obscenities, wanting nothing more than to be away from the crowd, to be free of the suffocating air his friends were accidentally creating. He needed to breath.  _He couldn’t breathe, why couldn’t he breathe?_

Malia watched as Scott followed Stiles staggering body to the large window. The boy leaned on the cold glass, his forehead touching the rain spattered panes. His breath fell from his lips harshly, creating pools of steam on the window, but doing nothing to help his panic.  
  
The coyote was half way across the room, planning on joining her boyfriend before Lydia overtook her. Strawberry blonde hair stained her vision with jealously and anger as the banshee approached the two boys with careful steps.  
  
When Stiles turned and spotted her, he held out a hand and Malia sucked in a painful breath as Lydia took it. Stiles curled his fingers around the banshees, pulling her towards him with the last bit of strength his body held. 

 

____________

 

Lydia wasn’t truly aware that she was moving across the room until her shoulder brushed past Malia’s. She heard the faint hiss that left the coyotes lips as she edged carefully towards Stiles. Lydia had acted on instinct, following the boy’s movements with knowing eyes.   
  
She knew what he wanted, what he needed. Lydia knew what to do, what to say. They worked together in harmony, their minds part of the same body that worked as one. She knew his thoughts, his feelings. So she followed him.  
  
Lydia was greeted with golden eyes that melted into honey at the sight of her and she accepted the hand that she knew he would offer.

She ignored their audience as he pulled her towards him with comfortable, sure movements. He leaned into her embrace and Lydia tried her best to hold his aching body before they inevitably sunk to the cold floor together.

 

____________

 

Malia was as still as a statue as she watched the two collide. They met in an embrace that appeared natural and practiced - as if it happened daily. Her sharp teeth drew blood from her own lip as she bit down on it, her eyes glaring as the banshee and Stiles dropped to the floor together - Stiles too tired to hold himself up.  
  
His breath fell in heavy gasps now, quicker than before and Malia could hear his weak, human heart beating faster and faster. She could hear the blood rushing through his body, circulating at speeds that his system couldn’t quite keep up with.   
  
It was as if Lydia knew this and she placed her hands on the boy’s pale cheeks, leaning into him as she crawled to her knees. Her bare legs were scratched from the rough concrete surface, but she seemed oblivious to this.   
Her eyes were focused on Stiles’ and they stared at each other as if they were the last sunset on earth.  
  
Malia’s fingers twitched as they curled into fists, the back of her knees colliding with the sofa Stiles once lay upon. She dropped onto the seat, her fists braced against her knees as she stared at the scene across the room.  
  
Stiles moved towards the banshee, her long red hair shielding them from several pairs of watchful eyes.

____________

 

Stiles shuffled forward, his body falling into Lydia’s. Their foreheads met as the boy braced his aching body against her, gasping for air as his warm breath fell onto her lips.  
She soothed him, making soft sounds that were so familiar to him, that took him back years before - to the damp air of the locker room, the hard tiles under their bodies.   
  
Here, in Derek’s loft, with the stares of their friends piercing their backs, Stiles could still remember the kiss that Lydia gave him, how she tasted like the oreo’s she had at lunch. Her soft lips had taken his breath away before she had given it back to him - bestowed upon him like a gift. The true present had been the feel of her lips moving against his own - unpracticed and rushed - but so, so perfect.  
  
It didn’t really come as a huge surprise that he felt her move into him again, just like before. His breath was harsh like the first time, his chest burning in agony. She moved swiftly against him, taking the stuttered breath from his lungs as Lydia crushed their lips together.   
  
This time, he held onto her. Stiles clasped her head in his hands, her strawberry blonde locks like silk between his fingers. He clung to her like a lifeline, his little red string that tied him to reality.

Slowly and almost grudgingly, just like last time, they parted. Knowing already that the girl in front of him had worked her magic, he smiled in awe. His breath rushed back to him, the sudden movement of his lungs making his chest and wound scream out to him in agony.

Lydia fell back from him, her body sitting on the cold, hard floor as she played with her fingernails. She was aware of the way their friends were staring at them, how Stiles could look at nothing but her.  
How the coyote on the other side of the room was staring at them with dead, blue eyes.

____________

 

Malia watched how the inevitable finally unfolded. The pair moved as if a string held them together, two bodies with one mind. Their lips met with no hesitation and the coyote watched with nothing but understanding and realisation.   
  
It hurt, of course, when Stiles’ lips met with another girls - no, that girls - it stung. Her heart sobbed in her chest but she couldn’t look away. Not from the truth.

When they parted, it was Lydia’s breath that was heavy, her cheeks flushed. Stiles had calmed, the effect of the girl overwhelming not only him, but their friends in the room. It was a power than no supernatural being possessed, and it was because of that, that Malia knew.  
  
_She knew that Stiles was never really hers to begin with._


End file.
